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I sit calmly
as I listen to the
Spanish guitars.

My hand holds
a cut crystal glass
three quarters full
of Burgundy wine.

I watch as
my arm uncurls
and hurls
the glass
against the wall behind me.

I do not turn to see it hit,
But I hear the
satisfying shatter
and I see the crimson splatter.

Quietly I get up
and leave the table.
I turn to see the glass,
still mostly full
sitting where I left it.

I politely pay the bill,
smiling at the hostess
as I calmly leave
the restaurant.

And I feel
the bow string tighten.


By Suli Marr